Spartanists Unite
by lindsayheyhey1991
Summary: The first chapters in the series. Fyra and Jake are introduced, and already evil has swept through Nascartesa!
1. Chapter 1

Fyra was an ordinary girl. Well, as ordinary as you can be when you live in Nascartesa. In Nascartesa, you go to school to learn things completely unheard of in our world. Whilst we are stuck in stifling classrooms learning algebra and physics, children in Nascartesa learn of strange creatures even I cannot describe, and the occasional snippet of astronomy. We can learn astronomy too, but only later on when we're older, and our skies are rather dull and empty in comparison to the skies over Nascartesa.

Fyra was small for her age. At fourteen, she was pale and skinny, with a shock of shoulder-length bright red hair that never lay flat. She had piercing green eyes with a tint of blue, quite unusual for people in Nascartesa, where everyone's eyes were brown. For this, she had always been teased, however she had inherited her mother's quick wittedness and had no trouble keeping the bullies at bay with sharp comments they didn't understand. Fyra's grandmother had looked after her for most of her life. Her mother worked as a maid in the palace of Rah Calordan the fourth, ruler of the fair city of Nascartesa, meaning she was rarely at home when Fyra was not asleep. Her father had been killed when Fyra was five, she barely knew him, and so this didn't bother her much. She always seemed more interested in the beast that killed him, but unfortunately, nobody who had been with her father's party that night had survived to describe the creature. Fyra's grandmother had always called her 'special'. Fyra once heard her mother arguing with her grandmother something called a 'prophecy'. This didn't bother her, she had never been taught in school that there were such things as prophecies, and so, unfortunately, she decided her grandmother was losing it slightly in her age.

Our story begins on the second day of summer. Fyra was sat under one of the many oak trees surrounding the city, watching the clouds. She had avoided the house that day because a friend of her grandmother's was preparing a wedding for her daughter, so Fyra's grandmother had been enlisted to help make the wedding dress. Not wanting to be involved, Fyra had ridden out into the meadows surrounding the castle town to escape. A sudden sound sent her horse skittering around its tether. Fyra stood and steadied the terrified creature, soothing it with calm words the way her father used to. The sound came again. It was a horn being blown at the castle. The dull sound that could be heard meant either one of two things; either one of the royal family was dead, or war had been declared with some other province. This meant the whole city had to assemble in the vast courtyard of the castle. Grumbling to herself, Fyra swung herself up into the saddle and cantered back towards the town.

She clopped into the courtyard and joined the crowd at the back. She stayed mounted, otherwise there was no chance she would be able to see anything. On the balcony above the courtyard, a man in red was speaking. Fyra could barely hear him, but she recognised him as the Rah's ruthless brother, Benedito, who had suddenly returned from the East upon hearing of the Rah's poor health. Wild and terrifying, Benedito had the look of a man who craved power, and the hunger in his black eyes was evident even to Fyra right at the back. His hair was long and matted, black, like his eyes. None of the citizens of Nascartesa were fond of him, in fact, many despised him, but unfortunately, the Rah had had no children, owing to his wife's early death at the hands of illness. The realisation spread through the crowd in ripples, as those who could hear told those behind them. _The Rah is dead; Benedito is taking over._ A kindly gentleman stood beside Fyra's horse and whispered up to her:

"Benedito claims the throne," He rasped, in shock, "Bid farewell to your future, young lady." He shook his head and closed his eyes in silent prayer, begging the gods for help. Looking around, Fyra saw many others in silent prayer. With a growing trepidation, she looked directly up at the new Rah.

A sudden pain shot through her body, causing her to pitch forwards in the saddle. Clutching her heart, she looked up at the new Rah. A burning hatred welled up from deep within her, bewildered and not in control, her hand closed around the sheathe beneath her cloak that held her father's knife. The silver blade was almost out and drawn before she came to her senses and stuffed it back beneath her cloak. The pain subsided as suddenly as it had come. Gazing around, she saw that people were moving, probably going to hide their treasures from the new Rah's army. No doubt they would search everyone and plunder their riches. Shaking herself, Fyra turned her horse and rode home as fast as she could.

"Fyra!" cried her grandmother as she entered the small courtyard outside their home. The old woman ran up to her and seized her into a hug.

"Put Ferro away." She said, flatly, "We must plan our safety!" Fyra did as she was told, then went inside. Her mother was home early, unusually. Seeing her only daughter, she leapt to her feet and hugged her.

"What's going on?" asked Fyra amid all the confusion, "Are we going away?" She asked, eyeing the open trunk on the floor. She saw the answer in her mother's eyes. They weren't leaving; they would stay and resist for as long as they could. The trunk was simply being filled with valuables to hide beneath the floor of the stables in order to keep the guards from confiscating them.

"Dark times have descended on us, Fyra!" Whispered her grandmother Unsure exactly what she meant, Fyra continued to collect valuables from around the house.


	2. Chapter 2

In our world, another had shared the burning pain Fyra had felt. Jake had been in the middle of a hockey match when the pain hit. Collapsing in agony (for the pain is so much worse in our world), His coach had ushered him into the changing rooms to be checked over. The pain faded suddenly, just like Fyra's had done, but he still felt queasy. His face white as a sheet, Jake sat down on one of the benches with his head in his hands. The coach left to organise a substitute, Jake went into the bathroom to wash his face. Looking up into the mirror, he stared at the pale boy with green eyes looking back at him from the other side. Rubbing his eyes, he leant on the sink and ran a hand through his messy brown hair. His hair had earned him the cruel nickname "moppy" when he had dared to turn up at school with long hair. It wasn't that long. Long enough, he thought. Everyone else had short hair because some celebrity somewhere had donned the style and said it was "cool". Jake hated it. Splashing more water in his face, he glanced back into the mirror. What he saw nearly made cry out in shock. Clutching the sink more firmly, he peered in. What he could see was a girl, a girl with a shock of red hair and green eyes. Blinking, he pinched his arm to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Watching carefully, the image Jake saw changed, showing a wild-looking black-haired man with yellowed teeth. The image changed again. He was looking at the girl again, she was throwing things into an old-fashioned trunk, along with two other women who he assumed were her family. Puzzled, Jake closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, the image was gone. Shaking himself, he went back outside.

The smell of roast lamb filled the air as Jake kicked off his shoes by the front door. Dropping his bag at the bottom of the stairs, Jake padded into the living room and flopped down on the sofa.

"I got a call from the school," came his step-mum's voice from the kitchen, "Mr Smith said you collapsed on the pitch today."

"It's nothing, I'm fine now." He said, evasively. The pain somehow felt different, like others shared it too. How he knew this, he didn't know, the thought had only occurred to him on the bus home. His step-mum came in with a thermometer.

"C'mon," she sighed, forcing the thermometer into his mouth. Satisfied that he was not running a temperature, she released the struggling Jake and left him be. Jake snatched up the remote and turned the TV on. Jake's real mum had died in a car accident when Jake was five. He had barely known her at the time.

Half an hour later, his step-mum called him for tea. Jake ate slowly, but soon picked up the pace when he noticed his step-mum watching him carefully. Hopefully she knew better than to try and interrogate her teenage stepson of he didn't want to talk. Jake was fifteen, his birthday had been in early October, making him one of the eldest in his year at school. Unfortunately, thought his step-mum, that made him surlier for longer.

After tea, Jake darted upstairs and sat on his bed, still thinking about the girl in the mirror. Something told him she was in trouble. Impossible, he thought, he'd never even seen the girl before, how could he know if she was in trouble? He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Closing his eyes, he tried not to think of the mountain of homework he'd been given that day.

When Jake woke up, it was nearly eleven o'clock. Cursing himself, he rubbed his eyes and hurried into the bathroom to shower. When he'd finished, he pulled on his pyjamas and went over to the sink to brush his teeth. His mouth full of foam, a thought suddenly occurred to him. Would he be able to see more into the girl's world from the mirror in the bathroom? Spitting out the foam, he wiped his face on the towel and wiped the condensation from the mirror. He hesitated. Did he really see those images? Or was he just hallucinating? Nobody will see, he thought, leaning to the mirror. Something inside him pulled him closer to the mirror. He felt himself slipping through the cool glass. Jake blinked.

He was standing on a hill. Not a hill really, it was much too big. A mountain. He looked down and saw a sprawling city that was bright in the warm sunshine. He could see people wandering around in the streets. Their clothes were like nothing they'd ever seen before. He craned his neck to see more. The people were hurrying. A wave of cold flooded over him. He sensed fear in the air. A sound behind him made him whirl around, almost losing his footing on the steep cliff. A wolf was crouched there, watching. Jake started to back away, but it growled menacingly. He froze. Where was he? The view behind him felt familiar somehow. The wolf howled, a strangely melodic sound. Transfixed, Jake stared at the wolf. Suddenly, it pounced. Jake braced himself for the impact, but it never came. The wolf dissolved into his body with a blinding flash of light. Everything went black.

Someone was shaking him roughly.

"Jake!" came a voice, distant. Jake mumbled incoherently. He realised his eyes were shut. He opened them. His step-mum was standing in the doorway looking panic-stricken. His dad was shaking him; he looked terrified.

"What happened?" He demanded. Jake shook his head and shrugged.

"I'll call the doctor." His step-mum turned to leave.

"No!" Jake cried. Both parents looked at him. Taking a deep breath, he said "I'm fine, just tired." Neither looked convinced, but they helped him into bed and went back downstairs muttering to each other. Rubbing his head, Jake wondered if what had just happened was real. Impossible, said a voice in the back of his mind. But something kept nagging at him that all this meant something. I'm insane, the sarcastic little voice said. Rolling over, he closed his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Whilst all this had been happening in our world, Fyra and her family had successfully stowed their valuables beneath Ferro's stall in the run-down old building. Whilst she had been doing all this, a boy's face had flashed into her mind. Only for a second, but the image had stuck. She wondered who it was. Pushing it to the back of her mind, she followed her mother back into the house. It was going dark outside. She sat down at the old oak table and pulled a dish of hot soup towards her. Her grandmother's cooking was delicious, even if it seemed like the end of the world.

The three of them had just finished the washing up when there were three loud bangs on the door. The older women looked ominously at each other, motioning Fyra to get the door. She opened it, and was instantly pushed out of the way as six burly guards in black armour marched in.

"Names?" The leader demanded. He smelt strongly of ale.

Fyra's grandmother answered.

"Mapril Evesham. This is my daughter, Annalynn and my granddaughter, Fyra."

"Business in Nascartesa?"

"We live here!" squeaked Annalynn, "I'm a maid up at the castle." She added. The guard nodded to another, who wrote something down on a scroll of parchment. The leader picked up a silver goblet from the table, eyeing the polished surface. Fyra was brimming with anger. She stomped over to the guard and snatched the cup from him.

"It's ours." She spat, "see the family crest?" The guard seized her by the shoulders. He stared menacingly into her eyes but released her suddenly.

"Green eyes…" He uttered. Turning to the other two, he spoke aloud, "We have orders," he hesitated, "to find the one with green eyes, and kill them. It seems your daughter has brought us the end of our search at last." He sneered beneath his visor.

The guard drew his sword. Fyra backed up against the wall, eyeing the jagged blade. Her mother screamed but was hushed by her grandmother. Taking a deep breath, Fyra leapt suddenly into the air over the table beside her and shot through the open door. Swerving into the stables, she paused, panting for breath. Ferro looked up from his hay in confusion. Footsteps sounded just outside the door, then turned back towards the house.

"Enough!" Rasped a second voice, "Step out into the courtyard or your mother dies!"

Fyra's heart stopped. She hesitated, then bent down and peered through the crack between the door and the ground. There were no feet in view; they were all standing outside the house. Biting her lip, Fyra stepped outside. She moved silently into the centre.

"Foolish girl," came the rasping voice, and the guard raised his sword to slit her mother's throat. In slow motion, Fyra let out a blood-curdling scream of pain and anger. Energy exploded from her heart, filling her with a burning fury. The sword flew from the guard's hands, and he was knocked backwards by the pulsing energy that seemed to emanate from Fyra. Fyra stopped screaming. The guard who had not been knocked backwards sped towards the three horses tethered by the iron gates and vaulted aboard. His companions followed suit, although not in fear. They raced back towards the castle to tell their master the good news.

Fyra collapsed onto the floor, shaking. The two women carried her inside. She woke up half an hour later. Her mother was leaning over her, dabbing her forehead with a cold flannel. Fyra sat bolt upright.

"Shhh," her mother soothed. Fyra relaxed a little.

"We need to get her out of here." Whispered her grandmother, "She is in great danger here."

"How?" Begged her mother, "The city gates will be guarded, she will be killed!"

"What did I do?" blurted Fyra. Her mother looked nonplussed. "Before, when I screamed, and the sword flew out of his hands."

"I don't know," said her mother, honestly.

"Bah!" spat her grandmother, "That was true magic!" The words rang in the silence.

"Magic?" repeated Fyra, bewildered. "We use magic anyway."

People in Nascartesa use magic for the simplest of things – curing warts, easing pain, you get the idea. But this was only simple magic. Everyone in Nascartesa can do magic if they try hard enough, but it is too weak to accomplish anything important. The "true magic" Fyra's grandmother spoke of was granted only to certain people. These people are rare, and have the ability to create magic stronger than any other. Indeed when Fyra's outburst began, a surge of magic had exploded from within her that evaporated the guards' courage and defeated them instantly. Such a person had been born, according to Mapril, on the twenty-fourth of June fourteen years ago, a person with bright green eyes, and the power to end the suffering that was to come. That person, Mapril said, was Fyra.

"How is that possible?" whispered Annalynn faintly.

"I do not know that yet," said Fyra's grandmother, "but you need to leave this place, and fast."

Her words hung in the air. Annalynn took a deep breath as if to ask something else, but thought better of it. Pulling a leather bag out from under the bed, she handed it to Mapril, who began stocking it with food and a set of spare clothes. Fyra got to her feet and picked up the bag. It wasn't too heavy. Mapril also packed the saddlebags full of supplies, and thrust them on Fyra.

"Won't you need Ferro?" She asked, puzzled at the saddlebags.

"Heavens, no!" said her grandmother, "Take him with you, no doubt you'll get further on him." She opened the door a crack, then ushered Fyra and her mother outside.

Fyra swung the saddle over Ferro's black coat, buckling the girth and sliding the saddlebags over his back. Hoisting the leather bag up too, Fyra helped her mother secure it behind the saddle with a rope. Unhooking the coil of rope hanging outside the stable, Fyra hooked it onto the saddle and pulled her cloak around her shoulders.

"Lead him down to the gates, don't ride." Her grandmother warned her. Fyra nodded, and slid the reins back over Ferro's head so she could hold them better to lead him.

"Better walk with a limp, too," Mapril added, "and hunch over so they think you're a beggar."

Fyra led Ferro out of the stables. She paused. Annalynn pulled her into a hug, and so did Mapril.

"Good luck to you," whispered her mother.

"May the gods guide you well." Uttered Mapril, "Go north, they can't touch you there."

They released Fyra, who picked up the reins she had dropped, and turned to lead Ferro away.

She walked as her grandmother had told her to, and was relieved when a band of guards marched straight past her without bothering her. She saw the gates up ahead, flanked by two mean-looking guards.

One of the guards nudged the other, who sputtered awake. The beggar approached them, leading an old nag. They didn't even bother to search the beggar's pack, surely if they were going _out_ they didn't need searching. They allowed the two to plod past, noting that the horse walked with subtle nobility often seen in cavalry horses. Deciding that it was probably a "damaged" horse (one that had been injured badly and sold on to a new owner), they went back to dozing.

Fyra had to try very hard to refrain from crying out in glee at having passed the guards without one single problem. Waiting until she was out of sight of the guards, she abandoned the funny walk and swung aboard Ferro. Ferro's ears pricked up as she did this – he hated being led because it was so boring. Nudging him into a canter, Fyra let him carry her on into the woods in the dark night.

They came to a clearing just off the track that wound through the forest and towards the North. Fyra tethered Ferro and took off his saddle. She placed it on the ground and pulled a blanket out of the bag Mapril had made up for her. She didn't dare start a fire in case any of Benedito's men came past. She leant against the saddle and closed her eyes, praying for help.


	4. Chapter 4

Jake awoke to sunlight streaming through his window. Blinking the sleep away, he sat up, only vaguely recalling last night's events. Yawning, he looked at his alarm clock. Ten o'clock! He leapt up. He was halfway through pulling his socks on before he realised it was Saturday. Smiling to himself, he pulled a pair of jeans off the floor and pulled them on. When he got downstairs the house was empty. Of course, he thought to himself, his mum and step-dad were at work. Not bothering with cereal, he grabbed a chocolate biscuit and went into the living room.

He plonked himself down on the sofa and began to watch TV. Halfway through the programme, Jake felt the burning pain again. He sat bolt upright, panting as the pain enveloped his body. Then, as soon as it had come, the pain stopped. Making a mental note to go to the school nurse on Monday, he wiped the beads of sweat off his face. He turned back to the TV. But it wasn't showing the programme anymore. On the screen there was an image of a wood. A horse was tethered to a tree, and at its feet was a sleeping figure. Moving closer to the screen, he saw that it was the girl from the other side of the mirror. Rather scared now, he grabbed the remote and switched channels. Every channel was showing the girl in the clearing. Jake's heart was beating faster now. Panicking, he punched the 'off' button and scrambled backwards. The screen went blank. Looking around the room, Jake's breathing slowed gradually as he calmed down. What was happening to him? He wondered. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and stood up. He went into the kitchen and gulped down a glass of water. He walked shakily back into the front room. He froze. The TV was on. It was showing the same image as before. A blinding pain shot through his body like icy needles. Jake dropped to his knees on the soft blue carpet. He was dying, he was sure of it. Purple spots were dancing in front of his eyes. He was being sucked out of his body. He couldn't breathe. He fell forwards onto the floor, and then everything went black.

How long he lay face down on the carpet he didn't know. Jake focused on breathing steadily. The pain had stopped a while ago. He became aware that the carpet smelt funny. In fact, it didn't smell like carpet at all, it smelt like moss. It soon became apparent that he was in fact led on moss. How strange. He opened his eyes. He couldn't see anything at first because everything was so bright. Eventually his eyes adjusted and he could pick out figures. No, not figures, trees. He slowly pushed himself up onto his knees and stared around him in disbelief.

He was in a clearing in a wood. Sunlight danced across the mossy rocks and tree roots. The air smelt woody, and everything was damp with morning dew. A snort startled him. He spun around, but it was only a horse. A horse alone in the woods? How odd. Jake blinked. A shape was on the ground at the horse's feet. Jake's jaw dropped. It was the girl from the mirror; only she wasn't a reflection anymore - she was flesh and blood. She stirred.

Fyra sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Yawning, she flung the blanket back and looked around. Her jaw dropped. There, knelt on the damp ground, was the boy whose face she had seen flashes of the previous night. Blinking, she watched him. He was wearing the most ridiculous attire she had ever seen. Where had he come from? How did he find her? Questions raced each other around her head. She stood up.

"Who are you?" she asked, inching her hand towards her father's knife.

"Jake… who're you?" he stammered back. Jake? What a strange name. Unwilling to reveal her identity, Fyra circled him.

"Where do you come from? Which province?" she demanded, whipping out the knife.

"England!" squeaked the boy.

"There is no province of England." Fyra spat. "Unless you come from across the Great Sea."

"W…what country are we in?" asked Jake, never taking his eyes off the knife in her hand.

"We are in the province of Nascart, governed by the great city of Nascartesa, in the Kale Islands." The boy looked lost.

"D'you think you could put the knife away?" he asked, "I'm unarmed."

Fyra scanned his figure for any sign of a weapon. Seeing none, she sheathed her knife, and motioned the boy to sit down. She sat down opposite him.

"How did you get here without a horse?" she enquired, curious at Jake's motives.

"I didn't, I saw your face in a mirror yesterday, and on the television this… five minutes ago, actually." He looked confused. No wonder, though Fyra, what was a television? Such a strange word. Deciding he wasn't a threat, she tossed him an apple out of her pack and bit into one herself.

"So, you saw my face in a mirror, and on a tele-whatsit thing," she swallowed, but the boy interrupted her.

"I felt a pain too." This caught Fyra off guard. Coincidence?

"When?" She demanded.

"Just after midday, I think."

"Me too." Both looked at each other. Fyra felt more relaxed. "I saw you too."

"And the pain?" asked Jake, eagerly. Fyra nodded, introducing herself.

They had both experienced the same pain at the same time, only the boy had been pulled from his own country, where it was obviously customary for people to wear such strange clothing, and had entered Nascart. Now, neither of them knew what had happened exactly, but Fyra guessed the gods must have pulled this boy, Jake, into their world for a purpose. She was partly right. Jake had been pulled from our world into this one via an ancient spell. We shall learn more of this later, but neither of the two had any idea what they were setting out to do. Jake had admitted feeling things "weren't right" somewhere, and Fyra confessed she'd had the same feeling too.

Fyra stood and re-saddled Ferro, having befriended Jake, she decided they would need to get to the nearest village to find Jake some normal clothes, and possibly a horse too. Ferro wouldn't be able to carry them both for long, and if Benedito's men caught up with them…

"Can you ride?" she turned to face him.

"A little, not since I was small." He looked unsure. Fyra helped him mount with apprehension, but was reassured when he found his seat and sat tall behind the saddle. Fyra climbed on too, and nudged Ferro into a trot. Jake sat easily to the horse's rhythm, and began to enjoy himself a bit. It was only when a small village cam into sight that Fyra spoke again.

"Get off here." She said quietly, sliding off herself.

Jake slid down rather ungracefully, but landed on his feet. Fyra opened one of the saddlebags and pulled out a cloak.

"Put this on." She ordered, "And make sure nobody seed your feet." She eyed the red Converse Jake had on.

"What're we doing?" He asked, pulling on the cloak.

"Getting food, and some clothes for you."

Jake nodded. Fyra pulled the reins over Ferro's head and held them loosely. Eyeing the smooth glossy coat, she frowned. He was too clean to pass as a packhorse in a small village. People would talk, and Benedito's guards were bound to catch wind of their visit. She began stroking Ferro in the opposite direction, so his coat looked scruffier. Jake stopped her and dipped his hands in some mud. He began rubbing it into the horse's legs, and wiping patches all over his body. Fyra was impressed, but disliked seeing Ferro in such a way.

"Walk slowly, limp if you want to, but make sure nobody sees your feet." Fyra adopted the walk she had used on the way out of Nascartesa the night before.


	5. Chapter 5

They entered the village slowly. The villagers didn't pay much attention to them. There seemed to be a market going on. This was lucky, as there was food, livestock and clothing all on sale and people wouldn't be suspicious. They went over to the first stall and bought some salted meat and fruit. Fyra made a point of buying Jake some clothes to hide his dreadful attire.

"Do we need anything else?" Jake asked.

"Horse." Grunted Fyra, eyeing a tall man with what looked like a sword under his cloak.

They approached one of the pens full of livestock. There were three horses. Fyra checked them over, examining their health and chatting to the seller about having to buy a horse for her brother who worked with the Rah. It was a big lie to tell; of course Jake had no idea what they were on about. Eventually, Fyra seemed satisfied with one of the horses above the others. One was a fine grey mare, which Fyra said was too conspicuous, another was old, so it wouldn't be able to do much in the way of fleeing the Rah's men. The last one was a three-year-old. Far too young, and unbroken, and they didn't have time to train it. Fyra reluctantly paid the man for the grey mare, and handed her rope to Jake. They were on the verge of leaving the village, having just bought a cheap saddle and bridle for their new companion, when the tall man Fyra had been watching made his move.

Out of the corner of her eye, Fyra saw his hand go under the cloak. She whirled around in time to see him signalling towards the trees. All hell broke loose. Out of the trees came twenty or so horses, all with Benedito's men on their backs. They charged down the slope towards the terrified villagers.

Fyra sprang into action, but was surprised to see Jake already in the saddle aboard the grey mare. She vaulted onto Ferro's back, following Jake out of the village at full gallop. The guards gave chase. Fyra crossed her fingers hoping the grey mare had stamina to outrun them. She knew Ferro did, he had won races before, but that had been three years ago. The two horses were galloping side by side. The guards weren't far behind them. Jake turned to her.

"Where are we going?" He yelled, clinging on to the mare's creamy mane.

"The North," she replied over the thundering hooves, "See those trees up ahead?"

Jake nodded, looking to where she was pointing.

"When we get there, fall in behind me, we'll lose them in there." Fyra urged Ferro onwards. They reached the trees within seconds, speeding through the wood. They dodged branches and tree roots, trying to get away. After five minutes' hard galloping through the forest, Fyra felt Ferro beginning to tire. The guards had dropped back, their horses spent, but still following. She looked around desperately. Up ahead there was a canyon, if they could scramble up the sides once at the other end, they would be able to double back on the guards and swing west in order to lose them. The echoes of the horses' hooves bounced off the walls as the pair entered the canyon. Luckily, Fyra could lead them out and up the side. She turned the panting Ferro, and urged him up the steep slope. Jake wasn't far behind, them. They both made it up to the top just as the guards entered the canyon. They mistook the echoes for the sounds of Fyra and Jake's horses, and charged on out of the canyon into ore forest. Slowing the horses to a trot, Jake and Fyra doubled back along the top of the canyon wall, and down the side to the west.

They camped that night by a small stream. The horses were glad of a drink, and Fyra walked each of them through the cool water a few times to cool their legs.

That morning, they were both very stiff, and Jake was extremely saddle-sore after yesterday's wild ride. They built a small fire and cooked the salted meat. They each ate a little, and then Fyra laid the rest out on a rock to cool while they both cleared the fire so nobody would know they'd been there. Then they gathered up the meat and left their campsite.

For the next few days, they saw no sign of Benedito's men, and were able to make quicker progress towards the north. Fyra had taught Jake to use a sword, a purchase they had made in one of the mountain villages earlier. The two had become close friends over the past few days. Fyra had told Jake all the customs of Nascartesians, and had even told him what happened on the night she left Nascartesa, when she had somehow disabled the three guards without doing anything. Jake often joked that they could have used one of those outbursts the other day when they had been chased for miles by the guards. At this, Fyra often scowled and pointed out that he hadn't shown any signs of magic, something she sometimes regretted, seeing he hadn't really had much cause for one because his family were safely in our world. Fyra had laughed herself silly when Jake told her about televisions and planes and cars, and couldn't believe that horses were merely for pleasure and not a necessary means of transportation. However, little did Fyra know that Jake had in fact been showing signs of magic. He had discovered he could light a fire simply my snapping his fingers, and he had accidentally discovered that he could make objects move without touching them. Of course he didn't want to tell Fyra yet, not until he could control it properly.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a cool, crisp morning, and the horses were walking with a spring in their step over the soft mountain grasses that lay beneath the snow. They weren't far from the border where they would be safe, and both Fyra and Jake were feeling more cheery then they had done in days. They were riding through a mountain pass, when both horses suddenly tensed. They smelt smoke, although Fyra and Jake couldn't. They continued slowly, careful not to make any loud noises that might start an avalanche, although Jake thought it would be a good idea to start one if it threw Benedito's men off their trail. Fyra told him no, she didn't want their way back blocked, and so they continued in silence. They rounded a corner and suddenly found themselves in a graveyard of sorts. The old tombstones were weathered, and deep snowdrifts had collected behind each one. Ferro skittered sideways and collided with the grey mare. Both horses were about to bolt, when a voice barked from behind them.

"Leave this place."

Jake and Fyra both wheeled in their saddles, struggling to hold the horses. A person had appeared behind them. They were almost bent double with age, and the hood they wore prevented the two companions from seeing their face.

"Who are you?" demanded Jake, sounding a lot braver that he felt.

"None of your concern." Growled the voice, "What are you doing up here?"

"Heading north." Said Fyra, wary of the stranger.

"You are from Nascartesa, are you not?" Rasped the voice.

"What's it to you?" said Fyra.

"The buffoons that call the Rah's brother their master passed through here three days ago. It seems you are either betrayed or have his men scouting for you."

"Really?" the person nodded. Dropping her guard a little, Fyra turned her horse and moved closer to him. Jake hung back. She stared down hard at the stranger, who turned out to be a wizened old woman. The woman stumbled backwards in shock.

"You have the green eyes… are you…"She wheezed, lost for words.

"We both are." Said Jake, dismounting uncertainly and leading the mare up to the woman.

"We need to get as far north as possible, before Benedito's guards." Fyra also dismounted.

The old woman looked around, checking for scouts on the valley sides. She motioned them to follow her. She pulled open a large door to a house that was almost invisible due to the snow covering it. She disappeared inside, motioning for them to bring the horses in too.

"That one is black as soot," she whispered, closing the door behind them, "it will stick out like a sore thumb in the whiteness."

She led them through to a cramped but cosy living room, leaving the horses to huddle in the large entrance hall. She sat down by the fire, and motioned them to do the same.

"I never thought I'd see this day, not in a million years." She muttered to herself.

"What?" asked Jake, puzzled by her behaviour.

"The day the Spartanists returned!" She wheezed in awe.

"Spartanists?" repeated Fyra, befuddled as to what the woman was on about.

"Many years ago, when Nascart and the surrounding provinces were still a wild wilderness, a magician of sorts was executed." The woman paused.

"We were told this in school." Shrugged Fyra, "It's a fairy story."

The woman looked at her, then at Jake.

"You are not of this world, are you?" Her question caught them both off guard.

"How did you know?" asked Jake faintly.

The woman smiled.

"The magician, when he died, split his powers and encased them into five people. These five people held his magic, whoever owned the powers gained them only by birth, and only by birth," the woman stressed this point an awful lot, "would have the power to put right either world into which the people descended."

"But how did the five become separated into different worlds?" Asked Jake, curious as to how he had got the 'powers'.

"Ah," said the woman, "nobody knows. They say one was transported to each of the five realms when the first guardians parted company, you see, when the wrong had been put right, the guardians had to split up and return to their own worlds."

Fyra was silent. Her hand closed around the pendant he father had given her. It was round, a purple stone with tiny engravings on it. She had always worn it. In fact, she had never taken it off since the day her father died, as a memorial to him. Glancing at Jake, she saw a thin chain around his neck too. She longed to see his necklace, but she didn't think it was such a good idea to show them to this woman.

"Tell me, boy," The woman raised her voice a little to clear her throat, "Where did you get such a necklace in a world where the magic has been lost?"

"Lost magic?" Repeated Fyra, jerking back to reality.

"I don't know how it happened, but the boy's world lost its magic long ago, leaving the only magic left contained within the bloodline of the Spartanist who lived there." Replied the woman, pointing at Jake. "His eyes show he has never know magic until now." She added, gazing at Jake's brilliant green eyes.

Jake had now fallen silent. Both his mother and Fyra's father had died when they were both around five. Jake's mother had also given him a necklace. But his was not round, it was flame-shaped, and the brightest yellow you had ever seen. He resisted the urge to show the woman, sensing Fyra would probably kill him for doing so to a complete stranger.

"My… mum gave it to me." Jake answered the woman's question.

"Tell me, which of you two has the purple one?" Fyra's jaw nearly hit the floor. Trying to disguise her shock, she demanded to know how the woman knew so much. For an answer, she pointed to a large and dusty book.

"Complete Spartanist history." She whispered softly, "Compiled by myself, over the years, and written in the Old Tongue."

Fyra gave in and took out her necklace. Keeping it around her neck, she held it up for the woman to see. She smiled knowingly.

"Yes," she said, more to herself than anyone, "the powers are there, in equal quantities too," she added, seeing Jake hold his up.

"Hey," interrupted Jake, "My mum, and her dad," he didn't use Fyra's name, "does this mean they were Spartanists too?"

"Not necessarily." Said the woman, "There hasn't been any wrong to put right here for hundreds of years."

"So we're the first in about five hundred years?" Fyra piped up, remembering something from her schoolwork. Jake looked round at her.

"Yes, I take it you will be ending Benedito's reign?"

"Define 'ending'." Said Fyra.

"Exactly what I just said, of course."

"But we don't have to kill him, right?" Jake didn't fancy becoming a murderer.

The woman shook her head.

"You will only need to imprison him inside the Oracle's cavern."

The Oracle's cave was supposedly a myth, but Fyra and Jake listened intently as the woman explained. The Oracle was a spirit trapped in human form by the magician. It was the Oracle's job to guard the cavern in which she lived and make sure none of the prisoners inside escaped. She watched over her inmates, who were among the foulest beings from all the worlds. Imprisoning Benedito here would certainly cure Nascartesa of its evil Rah, and make way for the rightful heir.

But Fyra still had a question.

"You said there were five," she looked at the woman, "how come only two of us are here?"

The woman considered this for a moment. Slowly she stood and picked up the book she had pointed to before. Picking it up, she shuffled back to her seat. Flicking through the pages, she mumbled inaudibly. Closing the book with a snap, she closed her eyes.

"Alas, this is in the Old Tongue," she opened her eyes, "I have forgotten how to read it. It has been many years since I last looked at this book."

Fyra looked down at her feet. Her head was swimming with all this information, but she managed to push it aside. Jake, on the other hand, was flicking through the pages of the old book. He didn't say anything, but Fyra saw a slight recognition in his eyes as he passed from one page to the next. He caught Fyra's eye, which told him fiercely and silently to stay quiet. Luckily the woman had noticed nothing.

"You must move on." Barked the woman in her raspy voice, "It is not safe for you to linger long in one place."

Fyra and Jake stood up, and followed her out into the entrance hall. Drawing their cloaks around them, they led the horses to the door, where the woman was squinting for spies. She waved them through, and the two mounted outside, blinking in the light. Fyra turned Ferro to set off, but the woman had caught Jake's reins and pressed the book on him.

"You will need this!" She shrieked, before ducking back inside, shutting the door behind her.

Jake dropped the book into one of the saddlebags, and turned his mare. The two set off into the snow once more, laden with information, yet twice as determined to reach the north, where they hoped they would be safe.


End file.
